Magical Morocco, a land of extremes. An exterior of chaos and crowds, concealong an interior of quiet, exslusive courtyards. The riads, palaces, literally hidden behind bland stone walls; you could never suspect their presence. The smells are strong. Repugnant – trash, carasses, leather. Then, sweet – fresh orange, oils, mint, jasmine. The people are so friendly and so intent on cheating you. 

Details, details, details. The faucet in the shower is more intricate than anything in my entire home, but no water emerges from it. Old meets very, very old and very, very new. A whirlwind. Colorful, bland. Sensual, conservative. Full of flavor. 

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